


Balaga's First Love

by sydnisan



Category: In the Heights - Miranda, Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Broken Bones, Drunk Driving, M/M, troika crash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydnisan/pseuds/sydnisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the hottest summer on record, and whilst searching for a refreshment, Balaga meets a handsome Piragua seller. The two begin a beautiful romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Balaga was losing patience.The sun beat down on the gleaming troika, and though he lashed his horses hard and frequently, they had slowed from a gallop to an indolent trot within an hour. This was the hottest summer that Russia had faced in decades; in fact, no one alive could remember having ever faced such heat.

Maybe he should give the horses a rest and some water, he thought to himself. And anyway, he, too, was pretty tired out. He was in a somewhat unfamiliar area of Moscow, and realised he did not know of any good places to get something for himself and the horses. Balaga began to look around for places to stop. He rode past clubs, barbers, and troika repair shops until he came across a handsome man selling piragua from a wooden cart by the side of the road. It seemed that nobody was buying his merchandise, as the area surrounding him was quite empty, but just a few feet away, there was a rather more successful vendor selling ice cream.

"Piragua, piragua, so sweet and nice piragua," the man yelled, but still no one came to his cart. Perhaps it was down to sunstroke, or perhaps it was the way the man's beautiful brown eyes shone, but Balaga was moved by pity. He pulled up by the man's cart and a gave as dashing a smile as he could muster.

"Sure is hot today," he said, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"It's hotter than the islands are tonight," agreed the Piragua Guy. "Piragua?" he asked hopefully.

"Uh, sure," Balaga stuttered. Why did he feel so bashful? He was Balaga, the famous troika driver who could get from Tula to Moscow and back in just one night, who drank and danced at orgies with his friends, who loved nothing more than to get drunk on champagne, and here he was, making a fool of himself in front of some stranger (albeit a very cute stranger). "What flavours have you got?"

"I've got mango, passion fruit--"

"I'll take the mango!" Balaga interrupted. "It's my favourite," he said rather sheepishly as the Piragua Guy prepared his piragua.

"Mine too," said the Piragua Guy, handing it to Balaga.

Their fingers touched, the two locked eyes, and for a moment it was as if they were connected. Then the Piragua Guy smiled and looked away, hastily shoving his hands in his pockets. "That'll be two rubles."

Balaga fished around for some money. Luckily, he wasn't short on cash, as he was to be Anatole's driver that night, and he'd been paid in advance. "Here you go." He flashed a warm grin and turned to leave, piragua in hand. Just as he stepped onto his troika, however, he was seized by a sense of recklessness and the realisation that he may never see this sweet piragua seller again. "Hey, listen," he said. "Do you... Do you maybe want to come on a drive with me tonight? My weird as fuck friend is planning on eloping with an heiress and he roped me into driving. He's gonna be there with his heiress girlfriend and also his boyfriend, and I don't want to fourth wheel, so maybe you could come and it would be like... I don't know... like a double date?"

Blushing, he realised that he had been rambling rather a lot, but the Piragua Guy was nodding. "Yeah, yeah sure that sounds great." The Piragua Guy paused. "Where is it that we're driving to?"

"Poland."

"Nice."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balaga introduces his date to his friends

Balaga sauntered into Dolokhov's study, grateful that the dusk had chased away the blazing heat of the day.

  
"Balaga is here," Anatole practically screamed, running over to embrace him. _How extra_ , thought Balaga.

  
Dolokhov came over too and gave Balaga a friendly pat on the back. "Hey, nice to see you, man," he said with a broad grin.

  
"Yeah, you too, dude." Balaga took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say. "I'd like to introduce you to someone." He opened the oak doors and beckoned the Piragua Guy forward. "This is my date, the Piragua Guy."

  
"You brought a date to an abduction?" Dolokhov sighed and rolled his eyes, but remembering his manners, he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you though, dude!"

  
The Piragua Guy gave a small, shy smile and looked at Balaga, as if questioning what to do next.  
Balaga took his hand and gave it a squeeze, still euphoric at the thought that this total sex god was his date.

  
"Well these are our dates," Anatole said, nodding at the familiar faces of Matryosha and Steshka, who waved at Balaga and the Piragua Guy before returning to their conversation.

  
Dolokhov raised his eyebrows. "No, Anatole, they're your dates."

  
Anatole frowned in confusion.

  
"Bro, how many times do I have to tell you -- I'm gay, remember?"

Anatole laughed good-naturedly and nodded. "Right, right, I knew that."

A rather awkward silence ensued as Balaga and the Piragua Guy exchanged the kind of blushing look found only on the faces of young, inexperienced lovers, while Anatole tried to get over the embarrassment of having forgotten his best friend's sexuality... Again.

Finally, Balaga managed to tear his eyes away from the handsomely stubbled face of the Piragua Guy. "Let's get out of here," he cried, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the table and pulling the Piragua Guy out into the hall. Dolokhov came next, followed by Anatole, who had stopped to kiss his lovers goodbye.

  
Balaga gulped the champagne as he ran madly down the stairs with his companions. They went so fast that servants were amazed; the scullery maid even dropped her laundry!

  
Balaga's beloved troika awaited him outside. He leapt in, already tipsy, and helped the flushed Piragua Guy in next to him.

  
He was ready for an adventure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troika ride goes wrong

The troika tore down Nikitski Boulevard as Dolokhov and Anatole opened up another bottle of champagne.

"Leave some for me!" Balaga called jovially. He reached over and squeezed the Piragua Guy's hand. "Are you having fun?"

The Piragua Guy hesitated for a moment. "Don't you think we're going a bit fast?"

Balaga chuckled. "That's the fun of it!" he said, spurring his horses on faster. "The night is ours, Piragua Guy. We can go as fast as we like, do whatever we want! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Well, you're the better driver, so I'll trust you. But... maybe you shouldn't be drinking champagne, at least..." He clutched Balaga's sinewy arm as they made a particularly sharp turn. 

"Ah," Balaga cried. "Good idea, love! Let's switch to vodka!"

Dolokhov and Anatole began laughing from the back, and Balaga felt a warm glow of validation, but seeing the Piragua Guy's stricken face, his expression softened and he dropped his voice. "My dear, it's okay. I promise. I've done this a thousand times before. Drunk even more than this, driven my horses even faster, and I've never hurt a passenger."

The Piragua Guy sighed and tried to steel his nerves, smiling sheepishly. "I love you, Balaga."

"I know."

"Faster, Balaga! Natasha's expecting us in five minutes!" Anatole yelled. He leaned forward and tensed his muscles as if he could quicken the troika by strength of will alone.

Balaga lashed his horses and shouted encouragements at them. Sure enough, they sped up, trying in vain to escape the bite of the whip. They whinnied, wide-eyed, and turned a particularly sharp corner.

What happened next was something that nobody could explain. Whether through some hidden obstruction, through carelessness or perhaps even drunkenness, the troika leaned just slightly too far. With a scream and a crash, and the sound of shattering bottles, the troika overturned, and everything went black.

The next thing Balaga felt was a strong, weathered hand pulling him out from under the side of the troika. "Dolokhov," he said weakly.

"Are you okay?" Dolokhov asked, eyes focused on Balaga's forehead, which he now realised was bleeding.

"I'm fine." Balaga shrugged. "Just fine."

"It's a miracle you weren't hurt."

That's when it hit him. _Piragua Guy_. He let out a strangled yelp and rushed to the other side of the troika, only to find it empty with a streak of blood on the seat. _Mine or his_ , he wondered, beginning to fear the worst.

"Balaga," a small voice groaned from across the road. "Balaga..."

Running towards the voice, Balaga soon saw his beautiful date now lying bloodied in the shadows, his leg jutting out at an unnatural angle. "My love," he cried out. "My love, it's going to be alright. We'll get you to a hospital."

Dolokhov and Anatole had caught up by now. The former was already dialing the emergency number on his phone, and the latter, being helpful for once, knelt by the Piragua Guy and began talking to distract him from the pain.

Balaga simply held his hand and rocked back and forth. He was too shocked to do anything else.

 

****

 

The Piragua Guy very slowly opened his eyes. They were in the hospital and had been all night. Dolokhov and Anatole were long gone, attempting to salvage the elopement, but Balaga could not bring himself to part from his new love, even if it meant losing the patronage of his friends.

"Where am I?"

Balaga's breath caught in his throat and he moved to hug the Piragua Guy, remembering at the last second that two of his ribs had been broken. Balaga withdrew awkwardly. "You're in the hospital, my love. You've broken two ribs and your left leg." He searched the Piragua Guy's face. "Do you remember?"

"I remember..." he paused, as if unsure whether to continue. "I remember you drinking. You drank an entire bottle of champagne, Balaga, and you crashed the troika." His voice, normally so soft and seductive, rose now in anger. "You hurt me, Balaga! What if I don't heal well? Then how will I be able to sell piragua all day? You were careless and it has cost me everything!"

Balaga's chest felt tight, as if his lungs were being constricted by a python. "Wh- wh- what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you have to put my well-being before fun if you want this to work. You have to choose -- it's me or the troika!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balaga makes his decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nsfw content

Balaga's head was spinning. A hurricane of emotions crashed and whirled inside him. Choose? But how could he? How could he give up who he was, his very identity, to keep his love? And yet, could he really relinquish the Piragua Guy?

"I... I have to think." He said, not even looking at the Piragua Guy as he rushed to the door. Just before he left the hospital room, he turned around and said quietly, "I'm sorry," but the Piragua Guy gave no response.

He ran from the hospital, and through the streets of Moscow, not even looking at where he was going. He just had to get away, had to think. 

Finally he stopped, panting, on an unfamiliar street. He leaned against a wall with cracked white paint and closed his eyes. He knew what it all came down to -- which did he love more? 

He loved his troika, of course he did, but could his troika hold him when he cried? Could his troika wrap him in a lover's embrace? Love could not be gained from an inanimate vehicle, even if that vehicle could go from Tula to Moscow and back in just one night. 

Then again, he'd only met the Piragua Guy a day ago. He barely knew him. But even so, he felt that their souls had known each other long before that day. The two of them had been made for each other; he had known it from the first moment he saw those glistening brown eyes. 

Balaga stood up and began ambling along the lonely streets, lit only by the moon. Perhaps a walk would help him think.

Even if the troika couldn't precisely be a lover, he knew it could be close to one. There had been many a night where he curled up in it and reached a glorious climax just from the feel of the cushioned seats or the hard, firm wooden door... 

Suddenly, he happened upon a familiar street. It was where he had met the Piragua Guy earlier, but the only person here now besides himself was a lone ice cream seller packing up his wares. This place might never again see the Piragua Guy plying his trade if he did not heal properly, Balaga mused, and he was seized by guilt, even more so by sadness. To deprive anyone, anywhere, or anything from the sweetness of the Piragua Guy would be an evil thing indeed. And just like that, Balaga knew his answer.

****

"I choose you," Balaga cried, bursting into the hospital room, and striding with a tearful smile towards the Piragua Guy. "I'll give up the troika. Hell, I'd give up anything to be with you!"

A grin broke out on the Piragua Guy's previously somber face, and he feebly propped himself up. "God, I can't tell you how thankful I am. I love you, Balaga," he said, almost giddy with joy.

Balaga sat at the edge of his bed and tenderly brushed the Piragua Guy's cheek. He looked into his eyes, and somewhat nervously leaned in for a kiss. 

The Piragua Guy responded wholeheartedly, reaching his good arm around Balaga's waist and pulling him closer. "I want to be with you," he whispered.

"You mean... Physically?" 

The Piragua Guy nodded and bit his lip coquettishly.

Balaga felt his loins stirring, but despite his desire, he hesitated. "But you have so many broken bones. Won't it hurt?"

"The power of our love will keep me safe," the Piragua Guy said.

"Well in that case..." And, saying no more, Balaga pulled the curtain fully closed to afford them some level of privacy. Then he began to undo his breeches, which was very easy because early 19th century men's clothing was practical and fashionable. 

"Dios mío!" breathed the Piragua Guy, hurriedly removing his own clothes to reveal his chiselled abs.

"God, you're hot," Balaga practically growled as he took hold of his lover's member and began to teasingly stroke. 

The Piragua Guy moaned and kissed Balaga once more, this time letting his tongue explore the other's mouth.

After a few minutes of this, Balaga spoke. "Are you ready?"

The Piragua Guy was so overcome with pleasure that he could only nod. He flipped over onto his hands and knees as Balaga prepared to enter him.

All of a sudden, the curtain was pulled back to reveal another very attractive (but very angry) man. "What the hell is going on?!" he cried.

"Sergei?!" exclaimed the Piragua Guy, scrambling to cover himself.

"Who is this?" Balaga asked, incredulous.

"My ex!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sergei drops a bombshell

"I demand an explanation!" cried Sergei, shaking his fist and glaring at the two naked men, who were hurrying to cover themselves.

"Oh, you demand an explanation?" The Piragua Guy scoffed. "You walked out on me six months ago and we haven't seen me since, yet all of a sudden you show up demanding to know what I'm doing with my boyfriend, as if you have any right to know that! You forfeited that right when you left." He tried to prop himself up, only to be reminded of his painful injuries. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Still fumbling to find the sleeves of his coat, Balaga retreated to one of the seats in the corner. This was something for the two of them to sort out, and something he very much did not want to be in the middle of. He could only pray that Sergei would be gone soon, and hopefully for good.

"The hospital called me. I guess I'm still you're emergency contact," he looked at the Piragua Guy then with a look that Balaga did not like. It had a wistfulness to it, or even a hopefulness. "Anyway," he said, shaking his head, "I came as soon as I heard. Believe it or not, I do still care about you."

Balaga again watched with concern as the Piragua Guy's frosty expression melted slightly and the beginnings of a bashful smile formed on his lips.

"Well, that's nice to hear... I guess," said the Piragua Guy.

For a moment it was silent, as all three men wondered how they would proceed.

"So, you have a boyfriend then?" Sergei asked, gesturing to Balaga.

The Piragua Guy was expressionless, and only after a few seconds did he turn to look at Balaga. It was as if he had forgotten him. "Oh, yes. Yes, I do." He motioned for Balaga to step into the light. "Sergei, meet Balaga."

Balaga reached out his hand, and Sergei met it with what could only be described as a death grip. "Balaga, huh? I know that name. You're a troika driver, right?"

"The finest, if I do say so myself," he said with a smile.

"Hm," was Sergei's only response. He then stepped forward, pushing Balaga gently to the side, and knelt by the Piragua Guy's bed. "Moya lyubov, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me, but I want to be here for you now... if you'll let me?"

This Sergei was good. He even managed to squeeze out a tear or two on demand, but Balaga knew that the Piragua Guy wouldn't fall for his pathetic act. Their relationship was too strong to let some old ex come between him.

The Piragua Guy smiled tenderly at his former lover and caressed his cheek. "I appreciate that, I really do, but Balaga is my boyfriend now. I want him to be there for me, not you."

Sergei nodded tearfully and looked down, biting his bottom lip. "There's something else," he said with hesitation. "I... I don't know how to say this, but... I want to get back together. I still love you, Piragua Guy."

 


	6. Chapter 6

Oh hell no. This was too much. Who did this Sergei bastard think he was to come in here and ruin everything? He had lost his chance to have the Piragua Guy – why should he get another one when everything had been going so well for Balaga?

"Now hold on a moment-" Balaga began.

Sergei turned around, almost incredulously, and stood. "I'm sorry, but if you don't mind, this is between my boyfriend and I."

" _Your_ boyfriend?" spluttered Balaga. "He's my boyfriend! You're his ex, and, quite frankly, you have no right to be here!"

Sergei took a menacing step closer. "You may have some fling going on. I'm not going to deny that, but it will never compare with what Piragua Guy and I had. What we had..." He smiled dreamily for a moment, lost in memories of bygone days. "What we had was something special... It transcended earthly love..."

 _Dear god, what a pretentious ass,_ thought Balaga. "Yeah, dude, the key word here is 'had'. You had something, but it's gone now. Piragua Guy is my boyfriend, and you need to accept it!"

Both men were suddenly interrupted from their argument by a shrill beeping sound being emitted from the Piragua Guy's moniter. His face held a sickly tinge and his eyes had fluttered shut.

Now it was Balaga's turn to push Sergei away as he rushed to the Piragua Guy's side and took his hand. "My love?" He clutched desperately at him, growing more and more frantic as he attempted to wake the Piragua Guy.

A nurse with reddish hair hurried in.

"Nurse, thank god you're here! He's lost consciousness," said Sergei, pointing at the Piragua Guy. "Please tell me he's alright!"

The nurse politely asked Balaga to step aside as she checked the Piragua Guy's pulse and the moniter.

Balaga and Sergei waited, their hatred of each other forgotten for the moment as they awaited the nurse's verdict.

Finally, she turned around. "He's fine. He's just lost consciousness due to stress." She crossed her arms and said in a firmer voice, "which means you both need to leave. I heard shouting, and I imagine that's what caused it. Whatever beef you have, you need to take it somewhere else."

"But I'm his boyfriend," the two men said simultaneously, before shooting each other dirty looks. Balaga opened his mouth to say something further, but the nurse cut him off. "I don't care who you are – figure this out away from the Piragua Guy."

Balaga and Sergei trailed out of the room in silence and continued down the halls until they reached some chairs lined against the wall. They sat down, still silent.

Balaga didn't know what he was going to do about this other man. He was going to get rid of him, of course, but how? Sergei seemed still to have some place in the Piragua Guy's heart, and he could only hope that their connection wasn't as strong as Sergei seemed to think. If he could only get the Piragua Guy alone and talk with him, surely they could work everything out and he could convince the Piragua Guy to send Sergei away for good. He could come first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as visiting hours began. Yes, yes that would work.

"I'm a doctor," said Sergei, interrupting Balaga's planning.

"Wow, cool story."

Sergei rolled his eyes. "If you'd let me finish..." He paused to glare at Balaga. "What I'm trying to say is that when Piragua Guy is released from hospital, I want to stick around with him for a few days to keep an eye on him. You know – make sure he's okay."

Balaga shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. Absolutely not. I don't want you around him."

"And that's up to you, is it?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Balaga replied, and was about to say more before Sergei interrupted, as he was often wont to do.

"Look, this is about Piragua Guy's health rather than the love that he and I share. Can you not put his wellbeing first?"

God, Balaga hated his smug, holier-than-thou attitude. How dare he try and present himself as some kind of selfless saint when both of them knew that this was just another ploy to get closer to the Piragua Guy. Balaga couldn't say no, but he didn't have to say yes either. "We'll let the Piragua Guy decide." That shouldn't be a problem, provided he could still visit him tomorrow morning before Sergei had the chance to persuade him.

"Fine, we'll let him decide."

 

 

 


End file.
